


What Sammy Wants

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: BoyKing! Sam - Freeform, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-09 12:43:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Boy King Sam sends his pretty whore brother to find them some new toys.





	What Sammy Wants

Dean still holds out hope, even as his brother spits into his gaping asshole. Sam’s wingspan is wider than his arm’s reach. When he’s fucking or fighting, those things always unfurl with a loud rustle, black and ominous as tornado clouds. Little brother plunges his fist in again, driving a deep groan from Dean’s lips, bloodied from his own teeth.

“You still resisting?” Sam chuckles. “Unbelievable.”

In the beginning, Dean said this whole BoyKing thing was nonsense. Kind of difficult to deride the man with his forearm in your colon. Also hard to breathe through the pain, or to completely disregard the pleasure. Dean squeezes his eyes shut and doesn’t try to speak.

“Look at this sloppy hole,” Sam says, slapping his ass. “Could drive train through there. Go up there and get me a snack.”

He leaves Dean on his hands and knees on the autopsy table, crosses the dungeon and drops in his throne, draping a leg over the armrest like the petulant, overgrown child monarch he is. 

“Snack?” Dean asks, climbing down and gently pawing his raw and cavernous backside. 

“Yes, a snack" Sam says. "Like you, only smaller.”

Before Dean can seek clarification, Sam snaps. 

Dean blinks, turning left and right, in the center of a baseball diamond with Sam’s cum leaking from his loose hole. Thankfully, he’s dressed this time, in a sports referee’s ensemble. Dean groans and pulls the polyester out of his yawning crack, because underwear would have been asking too much. He raises a hand to his eyes, shielding from the sunlight that burns twice as bright after months in a dungeon.

_Like him, only smaller._

How is Dean? Bow-legged, big mouthed, utterly charming. 

What the hell is Sam looking for?

The batter cracks the baseball and it soars into left field toward a beautiful dark-haired boy of about twelve. Unfortunately, the outfielder is too busy watching a flock of geese to make this catch.

The fans on the bleachers go wild, especially a boy, the miniature spitting image of the other, who leaps and waves his arms. 

“Raven! Raven!” 

Raven and his kid brother are a breathtakingly, distractingly attractive pair of children. Like Dean, only smaller. 

By the time he shouts to protest his assignment, all three are back in the BoyKing’s court. The boys search the musty dungeon with understandably confused expressions. The apparating does take some getting used to. Dean and the older boy, Raven, are still dressed for baseball. 

“Well done,” Sam says, “only that one’s too big.”

He raises his hand to snap and Dean lunges in front of the boy. He’s seen enough demons and men reduced to dust at his brother’s whim. 

“I have an idea,” he says to buy some time.

Sam looks doubtful, but he beckons. “Bring the little one.”

If Dean had known this was the mission he’d have leapt in fort of a Mac truck. Whatever Sam has in mind, Dean’s not on board. He plants himself before both children with a hand on each of their arms.

Sam wipes his nose and chuckles. The curled finger that most people use as an invitation to approach causes the younger boy to levitate across the room, whimpering and searching his awed brother’s face for comfort. He comes to rest on his feet in front of Sam. 

“What’s your name?” Sam asks in a parody of his former, friendlier voice. 

He leans froward, elbows on his knees, wings tucked politely behind him. His patience lapses with a loud inhale.

“You, what’s his name?”

Whether Raven holds his tongue out of courage or fear and Dean finds himself nodding in proud agreement. Quick as a snake, Sam snatches the little one up by the collar of his dinosaur T-shirt.

“Wren.” Raven lunges forward. “His name is Wren.”

“Thank you. Hello, Wren. Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

Sam lifts him by his shoulders, twisting the boy this way and that so that the light breaking through the bars sparkle off his tears. Setting the boy on his feet, Sam smiles and touches the beauty mark by his raspberry-red mouth. 

Without another word, he loosens the strings on his black cobra-leather pants and frees his cock. 

As Dean charges, Sam binds his voice and body with a mere flick of the wrist.

“You pick well, brother.”

He drags the boy’s face to his crotch and tilts his hips, painting the boy’s lips with the tip of his mammoth cock. From where Dean stands, he sees only Sam’s massive hand guiding the back of the child’s head. Suffers the muffled weeping and the gurgling sounds, powerless to even cry out as beside him, Raven sobs, as well. 

A small smile rests on Sam’s lips as he strips the child, lifts and impales him on his gargantuan, right-leaning pole. Poor little Wren wails while Sam strokes his face, his chest, bouncing the boy on his lap as if it were a horsey game.

“Oh, he’s tasty, Dean.” 

An epoch ends, another begins. Finally, Sam grunts his satisfaction. He sets Wren on his unsteady feet. A bright-red trickles trails down to his ankle as Sam signals for a well-dressed minion to take the child to the rear of the room where a tub rests on actual lion’s paws, full to the brim with seething white liquid.

“What is that?” Asks Dean, suddenly loosed again.

He’s seen men dissolved in vats of acid. Others pickled in huge drums of vinegar.

“It’s goat’s milk,” Sam says and licks his right palm like a preening cat.

Wren yelps when he’s dropped into the steaming liquid. The attendant submerges his head for a moment, but then lets him splash to the surface to breathe.

“Now, this idea?” Sam asks, fully erect again - or still, and slowly stroking his length. 

He’s staring at Raven like he’s the main course. Dean did give Sam that notion, but in the horror of watching his brother rape a first-grader, he’s failed to hatch an escape plan. 

Sam snaps his fingers and Dean jumps. Too late. If it were a death knell, he’d be dead. Instead, both Dean and the older boy are nude. Raven covers his hairless crotch, shivering. Maybe he’s younger than Dean thought. 

“You know, this one might even be prettier than you, Dean.” Sam smiles. “Come.”

Raven glances back at his brother soaking in the milk before he drags his feet to Sam’s throne. With the tips of his fingers, Sam singes one after the other of the moles on the boy’s chest. Raven screams louder with each sizzling touch, a stink of burned flesh tormenting Dean as it rises to the rafters. 

Sam turns Raven and treats the back until the child’s skin is a blank canvas. Then he brings both hands down in a ‘washed the spider out’ gesture, grinning as Raven howls. A single-ply of skin flutters around the boy’s feet. A fine smoke rises from his body and he reels on his feet, still trying to scream though he’s already hoarse. 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Sam explains. “I’ve always loves your freckles, Dean, but nothing like a little variety.”

Raven staggers. When Dean catches him, the boy shrieks again. Once Dean is sure Raven can stand on his own, he retracts the hand and gawks at the bright-pink print on the ivory back.

“Magnificent.” Sam sits back and folds his hands across his belly. “Now, breed him.”

Even as Dean starts to challenge the command, his cock engorges. Within seconds, he’s thick and achingly hard. He chokes the base of his dick for fear Sam will burst it. 

This is a familiar game Sam likes to play with his pet goats, all the while teasing Dean for his earthly habit of ‘screwing anything on two legs.’ That’s humiliating. This is far worse: a level of depravity even the devil can’t forgive.

“Or would you rather have Wren, since he’s all warmed up?”

If Dean doesn’t dip his wick in something soon, he’s going to die of this boner. All his body blood is pooled in his groin and jerking isn’t helping. In an moment of desperation and self-preservation, he grips Raven by the back of the neck and bends him over. Dean spits into his hand, but it evaporates like water on a griddle. 

“Dry is better, don’t you think?” Sam smirks.

If there’s one thing Dean knows, it’s that dry is excruciating. “Sam, come on, man. Don’t make me do this.”

“Come on, Dean,” Sam mimics his voice. “Tell the truth.”

“I love fucking little boys.” The words spill from Dean’s lips like vomit. 

Sam cackles and applauds his ventriloquist trick, pointing at Raven’s face as he elucidates, “Right up the caboose.”

Dean shakes his head, grits his teeth, resolved to die rather than be his brother’s toy. If his dick explodes, so be it.

In the same breath, Sam stands, powerful chest bare as always, dark wings spreading. “Or shall I?”

As intimately acquainted as Dean is with his brother’s anatomy, he doesn’t know whether the BoyKing! magicked additional length and girth to Sam Winchester’s package. All he knows is that the term monster applies. 

It’s an act of mercy when Dean angles Raven’s head down, aligns his cock and enters the boy. They both cry out, Dean in acute relief as his tip pierces the impossibly tight, hot entrance. He doesn’t intend to moan. The sound just escapes. 

Dean hasn’t fucked anything since his brother became royalty. Sam wants him fucked, not fucking. Until today. This is Sam’s show of charity: making Dean screw a child. 

Raven bawls not just when Dean thrusts into him, but whenever Dean touches his chalk-white and oversensitive skin. There’s no way not to hurt him. 

“Harder, Dean. Get in there. Hand around his throat.”

Dean’s body obeys Sam’s every command.

“That’s it. Give it to him, baby. Come on, Dean. Don’t you want to fucking nut?”

Raven is going to holler no matter what. Dean’s arm closes around his neck, the other around his belly, lifting the boy to his toes each time he ruts. Dean strains and pants and can’t even make his mouth form the apology. He’s an animal. A machine fueled by pure, molten pleasure.

“Christ, why is it so good?”

Dean sucks the sweat from the boy’s ear, presses his face in Raven’s feather-soft hair, rubbing in it like a dog wallows in its own shit. The whole dungeon reeks of semen and sweat, blood and boy shit, with a faint hint of goat milk. 

“That’s it. Stop fighting it, Dean. It’s a gift. Embrace what I’m giving you.”

“Oh, Raven. Fuck. Sammy.”

“You always wanted me, didn’t you?” Sam is right in Dean’s ear, wings hanging overhead. “Should have just taken me, Dean. Maybe I’d still be your bitch.” 

Those tides have sure changed. Sam laughs, slinks around to penetrate Raven’s mouth.

“Don’t you just want to rip him apart from the inside?”

No. All Dean wants is to orgasm and get out of this kid. A shadow of heat plays at his shoulder blades and he grinds his jaw, resists the wings, endures the pleasure as if it were punishment. Sam steps away to watch.

Dean squeezes his eyes shut, trying to find the brakes, but his body fucks harder. Hips pummeling, back hunched over the boy as he attacks in deep, rough thrusts. Dean grunts low in his throat, creating strange music with Raven’s throaty whimpers. 

Sam settles on his throne again and gestures with a finger. Wren is brought dripping from the bath. White liquid rivers down Sam’s pants forming a small puddle on the cement floor. Without preamble, Sam bites off the boy’s pinky and ring finger. The blood splatters his chin and chest, and Sam covers it with his mouth to avert more mess.

Both boys are screaming. Dean can’t stop fucking. 

He didn’t want to accept it before, but his brother is gone. Dean is the only person who can slay the beast in Sam’s body and end its reign.

But first, he has to bust his load in this succulent little ass. If his load ever comes. He’s been hammering the boy for ages now.

“God damn it, Sam. Let me come.”

Sam sits back in his throne. He chuckles to himself as his ravishing brother ravages an angel and he, the BoyKing, enjoys a light snack, ever careful to spit out the bones.


End file.
